peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one; potion

[Kirke]

peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one

Jesus she’s gotten fat. 

Kirke grumbles to herself as she wobbles gingerly into the meadow. Despite being only a few months into pregnancy, her belly has inflated like a balloon, rapidly growing to twice the size she’d been with her previous two. It’s rather uncomfortable to say the least. Her skin feels tight, stretched, and unbearable sensitive. And her ankles are painfully swollen. It’s making her worry about the coming months - if she’s already this large and in this much discomfort, what on earth is she going to look like come spring? 

She stops by the side of a spindly oak, leaning against it’s lumpy bark with a heavy sigh. It’d been a tiny fling, a one night stand. Just a night of trying to forget … well … everything (her mood sours further at that thought, and she does her best to steer her mind away from the memories). And thanks to it, she’s stuck with a hell of a lot of pain. There’s a niggling suspicion in the back of her mind too … her mother had once mentioned twins running in the family, and she’d had a set of twins herself … 

Ugh. She doesn’t want to think about it. She’ll find out soon enough anyway. 

At least the fling has had it’s intended affect, though not in the way she’d wanted. She’s out of her funk, at least temporarily. Focusing on her physical pain has been a wonder for keeping her mental anguish at bay. 

For the moment she tries to relax, leaning deeper into the tree and letting her brown eyes roam aimlessly about the surrounding meadow. There are a few horses about, but no one that she recognizes. She likes it that way anyway. She doesn’t want to run into anyone from her past. For a moment she closes her eyes and leans her head against the bark as well, letting the dark, earthy scent permeate her nostrils. Maybe everything will be alright. Maybe. 

kirke

@[Potion]

She's strangely cheerier than I expected. I daresay that won't last for long.